


Falling

by Jubalii



Category: Layton Kyouju vs Gyakuten Saiban | Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Sleepovers, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubalii/pseuds/Jubalii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not how hard you fall; it's how big of a sound you make when you do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

“Eve, what do you know about flirting?” The dark-haired woman looked up from her papers, blinking in surprise at the question.

“Whatever do you mean, Espella? I don’t understand the question.” The younger girl fidgeted on the seat, biting her lip and tugging absently at one of her straw-colored plaits.

“Well, what I mean is…” Her cheeks turned pink and she looked shyly at her older friend. “Do you know _how_ to do it, I guess. I need to learn how, but I don’t know where to start. The Archive doesn’t have a book on it from what I can tell, and I’m too scared to ask Miss Ridelle if I overlooked one.” Eve was shocked, and nearly asked why Espella would need to learn how to flirt, but it was clear enough _why_.

“I—I’m sorry, Espella. I can’t help you there,” she finally was able to answer, clearing her throat. “Aren’t you better off asking Mrs. Eclaire to help you? After all, she is a _Mrs.,_ so there naturally must have been a Mr. Eclaire at some point.” Espella tilted her head as she mulled over the logic of Eve’s thinking, tapping her chin with one finger.

“You’re right… but she’s never mentioned being married before. Besides,” she added sheepishly, “if I were to ask her, she’d want to know about who I had my eye on. I’d rather not confess it to anyone right now.” She looked down at her shoes. “If Dad found out, he might get angry. I think that if I started dating, he might feel abandoned.”

“Espella, you can’t live for your father for the rest of your life,” Eve pointed out.Espella looked back up with a smile, nodding.

“I know. But I want to give him just a little more. I don’t want him to feel left out; we missed out on a lot of time while he was the Storyteller. While I know I can’t get that back, I don’t want to just run off and leave him again after only a year.” They heard the faint peal of the bell tower as it sounded off the hour. “Wow, it’s nearly suppertime,” Espella sighed. “Where’d the day go?”

“Time flies when you have a job to do,” Eve remarked as she finished reading over the day’s reports and signed her authorization at the bottom before putting them in the small bin for Miss Mailer to take tomorrow. “Haven’t you learned that at the bakery already?” Espella laughed.

“Yes, I have, actually! But I enjoy the work there; it’s so much fun to decorate cakes and make different jellies. Every time someone gets a big smile on their face from eating something I helped bake, the heat and the heavy lifting seems worth it.” She stood and stretched, arms lifted towards the ceiling. “You should come and eat dinner with us tonight, Eve.”

“I don’t know,” she replied hesitantly. “It’s late, and I don’t like walking through the woods by myself in the dark. It’s hard to see the holes in the road; I keep meaning to add repairing it to the list of things we need to do in the town. Enough people walk to and from the old Shade village to make it worthwhile.” As she spoke, she pulled a piece of scrap paper towards her and wrote a reminder to get estimates for road repair.

“Oh.” Espella frowned in disappointment, but then immediately brightened again. “I have an idea! Since there’s still some sunlight left, we can go get some clothes from your house, and then you can just sleep over at the bakery! I’m sure that Aunt Patty won’t mind, since the bakery is closed tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Eve said firmly as she stood. “I’m over there often enough—”

“Come on, please?” the younger girl begged, hands clasped in front of her pleadingly. “Aunt Patty loves you; you wouldn’t be imposing. In fact, she’d be thrilled because that meant she’d get to make sure you ate _two_ meals instead of one. She thinks you skimp out when you’re not over there, and that’s what keeps you so skinny.” Eve made to protest, but was cut off before she could reply. “And besides, it would make Sir Barnham happy, so do it for him,” she added with a sly grin.

“ _Sir Barnham_ doesn’t even look at me whenever I’m over there,” Eve argued. “I doubt I’m doing him any favors by hanging around the bakery. And in any case, ever since my birthday he’s barely said two words to me that haven’t been specifically about work.”

“That’s because we embarrassed him in front of you,” Espella countered with a shrug. “After we all gave you our presents, his looked a little sad by comparison.”

“That’s the most absurd thing that I’ve ever heard in my life,” she declared, crossing her arms and glaring at her friend. “Why on earth would that matter?” Espella just laughed again before gracing her with a pitying expression.

“He was trying to _impress_ you, silly! Except that it didn’t work, and he got outdone by the rest of us. He probably didn’t even think about the lumps in the éclair until you pointed it out. He’s naïve that way. I don’t think you’ve noticed,” she continued confidentially, leaning in to speak in a hushed tone, “but he really likes you a lot. And for your information, he _does_ look at you whenever you come by. He just makes sure you’re not looking at him first.” She looked thoughtful again. “Maybe he needs a book on how to flirt too….”

“ _Espella_ ,” she warned in her ‘hush now before I smack you’ voice. She felt her cheeks burning. “If you want me to stay over, we have to go now to get to my house before it’s too dark.” Anything to change the conversation, even if it _did_ mean imposing herself on a Mrs. Eclaire for a night.

* * *

When Patty learned that Eve was coming to stay the night, she invited the Storyteller for supper too and made it a proper event. There was a hot roasted chicken, fresh rolls stuffed with greens and spices, baked carrots, golden potatoes swimming in butter, beans, and for dessert a large apple pie with a flaky crust to die for. Eve wondered if they ate that well at the bakery every night, or if Mrs. Eclaire had a bit of real magic in her that allowed for her to whip up an entire full-course meal in less time than it took to cross the city on foot.

Everyone ate more than one plate, enjoying a lively conversation at the table. Mrs. Eclaire urged Mr. Cantabella to take a third helping of potatoes ‘for his health’ while Espella nearly finished off the entire plate of rolls by herself. Eve ate with a hearty appetite, enjoying the delicious food and listening to Mr. Cantabella laughingly refuse, stating that he’d have to order an entire new wardrobe if she forced even one more potato into him.

Now that Espella had said something, she was aware of the sensation of being watched more than once, but every time she looked up, no one seemed to notice her. As per his usual, Barnham was either staring at his fork or looking at someone while he contributed to the conversation. Not once did he turn his eyes in her direction; at least, not when she didn’t have her gaze fixed firmly on her plate. She found herself trying to catch him at his own game, only half-listening while Espella expressed her excitement for an upcoming comedic play that was going to be performed at the Courthouse.

“It’s called ‘ _The Messy Drunkard’s Daughter_ ’, and Jean told me that Mr. Emeer is supposed to play the supporting role, since he only has to sit in the background and drink or sleep the entire time. Most of the talking falls to the daughter and the suitor, though Mary the goatherd is the suitor’s mother, and she gets a few lines too.”

“Well, that’s certainly something I’d like to see. When it opens, you and I will go together,” Mr. Cantabella offered. “You should come too, Patty. It sounds like something that you’d enjoy.” Eve looked up quickly, but Barnham had speared a slice of apple with his fork and was turning it around in his hand slowly as if studying if for some sort of defect. She stared steadily at him for a moment to see if he’d look up, but he seemed oblivious to everything but the apple covered in sticky pie syrup.

“I might, if I can tear myself away from the bakery long enough,” Mrs. Eclaire tittered as she cut herself another piece of pie. “If you’re free then, Zacharias, I’ll let you mind the shop and I’ll run off with them for one viewing, I think.” Eve huffed under her breath and looked down at Espella’s hand resting on the table, wishing she had some sort of reflective surface to watch him in unawares.

“I don’t know _how_ I’ve done without that child. He’s such a good help to me,” the baker told The Storyteller, as if the ‘child’ in question wasn’t sitting across the table. “I’ve half a mind to retire early and just let him and Espella mind the shop on their own.”

“Oh, we couldn’t!” Espella gasped. “Neither of us are nearly as good as you, Aunt Patty. We’d lose so much business!” The girl looked panicked at the mere thought of not having her benefactress looking over the shop each day. Eve felt eyes on her again and pointedly refused to look up, her mouth pressing into a thin line. How to catch him off guard was the question….

“Well, don’t worry, dear. I don’t plan on retiring anytime soon, and if I did, it would only be that I was on my deathbed and couldn’t drag myself downstairs,” Mrs. Eclaire assured her, patting her shoulder with a heavy hand. “But I do appreciate all the help that both of you do around here. It does a woman good, especially since I’m nowhere near as young as I used to be.”

“I’m finished,” Barnham announced, and she looked up in surprise as she heard the scratch of chair legs on wood. “Can I carry anyone else’s plate to the sink?” he asked politely, looking over the table at everything.

“You can take mine,” the Storyteller said, handing the plate up to him and patting his stomach. “Whew; I hope I can walk back home without falling asleep on my feet!” he joked. “That was a delectable treat, as always, Patty. You certainly know how to spoil an old man.” The baker blushed and waved his compliment away with a girlish giggle. Eve sighed, her chance gone; she was irritated that Espella was right, and doubly irritated that she hadn’t been able to catch him even moving his head to look back down. Somehow he was too fast for her… damn him.

* * *

After dinner, Espella had grabbed one of the chicken legs and told Eve to go to her room and get ready to shut the door on her signal. It was apparent why a moment later when she walked backwards into the room, luring Constantine with the leg. When the pup was fully past the threshold, eyes wide and focused hypnotically on the tender morsels of skin and meat, Eve quickly shut the door and trapped him inside. There was a mad scramble and then Espella had the wriggling dog in her arms, laughing at his growls and attempts to break free of her grasp.

“Come on, Constantine. Sit nicely for Eve and me like a good dog, and I’ll let you have this chicken leg,” she promised. The dog seemed to understand and stilled to where Espella could set him between her legs on the floor and give him the leg. Eve (the cat) watched interestedly from the windowsill, but Espella shooed her away when she tried to jump down and take the leg away from the dog. “Go away, Eve. You don’t need to be bribed like this little monster does,” she teased the dog as he gnawed on the bone, taking his ears and flopping them up and down in her hands like they were fur-covered wings.

By the time the pup had ate the meat sticking to the bone and licked up all the grease the two girls had undressed him from his armor, brushed out the white fur until it was as soft as goose down, and had dressed him again; now little bows sat above each fluffy ear, and a little pink scarf was wound fashionably around his neck and tied in a bow. He looked like a prissy girl puppy instead of a tough-as-nails ‘dog of knightly honor’, but the effect was so cute that both young women couldn’t help but coo over him.

“Oh, Constantine! You’re so adorable!” Espella squealed as she picked him up and squeezed him gently. He took this news with a snarl, glaring at the girl as if to say “I most certainly am not! I am a valiant defender of Labyrinthia, not a ball of fluff for you to trick and then dress up as you please!” But when Eve reached out and scratched beneath his chin, and then behind his ears, his snarl died slowly in his throat and she heard the telltale sound of a tail thumping just out of sight.

“You’re a good mutt, I suppose,” she said softly, still scratching his chin. Espella let go and he slid to the floor. Eve rolled him over and rubbed his tummy, watching as the pup wiggled and began to pant happily, tail going wild. “You like having your belly scratched?” she asked it, a small smile forming as she watched. She was a cat person, but even she had to admit that the growling fur ball had its merits— when it wasn’t trying to bite her ankles for scolding his master.

“Let’s get Eve and make them match,” Espella suggested, leaving Constantine with her as she grabbed the cat off the windowsill and set to brushing her as well. The cat immediately began to purr, leaning up into the brush. Espella held the brush still and it rubbed its cheeks against it, smoothing out the fur and whiskers before allowing her to brush its chin and ears. When she was done, she found another scrap of pink cloth and wrapped it around the cat’s neck, making a matching bow and then setting her down beside the pup.

“They’re perfect,” she proclaimed, grinning widely at the two animals. The door opened and Patty stepped in, her mouth opening in an ‘O’ of surprise when she saw what the two girls had been up to.

“Why, aren’t you two just cute as a button?” she asked sweetly, reaching down to pat the dog’s head. Constantine allowed her a moment before jumping up and running out the door. “Oh! You don’t want your armor?” she asked, but the dog was already escaped to freedom, bone lying forgotten next to the armor. “Well then.” She turned back to the girls. “I’m going to bed, ladies. You two keep quiet; I think Zacharias is still up if you happen to need something. I’ll see you in the morning,” she added, leaning down to hug Espella and patting Eve on the cheek before leaving, closing the door behind her.

“Zacharias is still awake?” Eve asked her friend, puzzled. She’d heard the bells ring for midnight not too long ago, while they were still brushing Constantine. If she was home, she’d have been in bed by now. She was staying up to be with Espella, but what was his excuse?

“Oh, yes,” Espella answered indifferently, shrugging her shoulders as she put Eve-the-cat back on the windowsill. “He stays up late every night to shine his armor. Sometimes he doesn’t go to bed until two or three in the morning, and he still gets up at half past six to help Aunt Patty light the fires. I’d be exhausted if I were him, but he says he has to do it so that the armor doesn’t stain and rust.”

“I’m sure that’s true. If I remember correctly, I used to pass by the garrison late at night and see torches still lit while the men maintained their armor. He’s probably used to it, so he never thinks about being tired at the beginning of the day.”

“I guess,” Espella shrugged again, throwing back her coverlet. “But now that we’re talking about it, I’m a little tired.” She went to the chest in the corner and dug out her nightgown. “It’s probably best if we went to bed too, right?”

“Right.”

“ _Meow~”_ Eve-the-cat added helpfully from her new spot in the rafters.

* * *

Eve woke when she hit the floor, staring at the ceiling in bewilderment as she tried to make out where she was. She remembered a moment later that she was at Mrs. Eclaire’s bakery, and when she sat up she realized why she’d fallen. Espella had unknowingly pushed her out of the bed, the younger woman’s body spread out across the mattress as she snored. _Leave it to you to be a bed hog, Espella,_ she thought as she pursed her lips.

She climbed to her feet and dusted her nightgown off, staring down at her friend before pulling the quilt up and tucking it around her shoulders. She was wide awake now, and there was no point in exerting herself trying to shove Espella back to one side of the bed. She’d stay up long enough to hear the hour being rung, and then if it was still early, she’d take a spare quilt out of the linen cupboard and sleep on the floor. As she stood in the cold, her bladder twisted; she sighed, heading for the lavatory.

She tried to stay quiet as she fumbled her way down the pitch-black hall, keeping to the far side of the wall so that she wouldn’t accidentally bang her head the threshold and fall down the stairs. Her hand guided her along the wall as she tried in vain to see anything from the very dim light trickling up from the windows on the lower floor. Eventually she reached the lavatory and knocked softly before entering and shutting the door. She blindly found the privy and did her business quickly, hissing as she washed her hands in the icy water from the basin. Why in the world hadn’t Mrs. Eclaire got running water like most of the other businesses in Labyrinthia? It was much better to have hot and cold water on command then doing it the old-fashioned way, in her opinion. Plus the extra blessing of not having to empty the privy in the mornings. Maybe the baker just didn’t want to do it any other way.

After nearing running headfirst into the door, she managed to get it open and made her way back along the wall. Now a flickering candlelight caught her attention from the door on the far opposite side of the hallway. _That must be **his** room_ , she thought, having never remembered going into that room before. She paused in the hallway, looking at the light flowing around the door where it wasn’t shut completely. She couldn’t sleep anyway, and she’d missed her moment at supper—if he was still awake, this was her chance to confront him privately about the way he’d been avoiding her since her birthday.

She neared the door, stopping only to see that Espella was still dead to the world, and then prepared to knock and see if he was still awake, or had only been a fool who’d gone to sleep with a lit candle. Either she’d get answers, or she’d save the bakery from burning down. Her hand was poised in the air, but she saw him clearly through the crack in the door and froze. He must have left it wider than usual since everyone else was in bed (or so he assumed), and she could easily see him inside.

He was still working on his armor, though everything but the greaves were gleaming on a dressmaker’s dummy and not with him in the floor. He sat with one gauntlet in his hand and his back to the door, carefully and methodically wiping flour out from the links that held the metal pieces together. He was focused intently on his task, his hand patiently digging out between the grooves to get every last piece of dough from the day’s work. But that wasn’t what stilled her hand and made her falter in the hallway.

He was shirtless—in reality, she should have guessed as much. He had no need for wearing clothes in the privacy of his bedroom, and it could have been worse; at least he was wearing pants, too. It was his muscles that distracted her; the way they alternately contracted and flexed on his arms as he worked, the high planes of his shoulders and the thick neck connected to them, the way the spine ran from his neck down until it wasn’t quite as visible near the waistband of his pants….

 _Knock. **Knock**. For God’s Sake, Eve Belduke, you need to knock! _ Her mind screamed at her again and again to do something, _anything_ , but she was unable to obey its commands. Something about his body struck her senseless to the point that she was practically leaning on the doorframe, her face pressed against the wood as she watched through the crack and her hand still hanging in the air. If he were to turn around and look her way it would be hard to see her in the shadow, but she had no doubt he could pick out the glimmer of her eyes in the candlelight. She needed to either knock and announce her presence, or go back to Espella’s room and try to forget what he looked like half-naked. No, not try, for it would be impossible to forget; she’d have to press it deep down in her psyche so that it wouldn’t rear its head every time she tried to face him.

What was it that she actually felt for him? _You’re going to think about this now, in your bare feet and nightgown, standing in the middle of the night in a hallway?_ a voice in her head snapped crossly, but she ignored it. When else could she think about it? She had to confront him while it was just the two of them awake; she knew that if she just went back to Espella’s room, they’d never talk about it. He’d keep sneaking glances at her and keeping quiet unless there was something work-related to say, and she’d be left wondering why he couldn’t seem to get over a little embarrassment, if it was even that. After all, he’d moved past the mortification long before people stopped calling referencing his ‘Wild Ride’ in every possible joke they could make.

Still, her question. _What do I feel for him? Why do I even care if he talks to me?_ She wanted to be his friend, she thought of him as a friend, especially since she’d stopped being his superior. She didn’t have to be cold and heartless to everyone now, and it was a great relief to her. She’d always been shy, but had never wanted to actually drive anyone away the way that she’d been forced to. It had been a hard life to lead. But Espella’s words kept playing in the back of her mind. _He was trying to impress you, silly! He really likes you a lot._

In Espella’s schoolgirl-esque terms, she’d meant that Barnham _fancied_ her. That he thought of her as something more than just a friend, and well beyond a professional work relationship. She couldn’t see that, considering the fact that they used to fight like cats and dogs, and that he’d made a crude, ugly doodle of her to throw daggers at whenever he got angry. And wasn’t he the one strutting about shouting things like “Romance has no place on the battlefield!” and “A fool is one who places love above honor!” _Maybe he says it to convince himself_ , her inner voice piped up snidely.

Even so, with all that… was it just her imagination, or did her heart beat just a little faster every time she thought about that lump of an éclair? She’d acknowledged that he’d tried his best, and that was what had really mattered. At least he’d thought of her on her birthday. And she couldn’t lie to herself; sometimes she had imagined what it would be like to kiss him and let him hold her, and once in a blue moon she’d wake up to dreams about him that shamed her too much to even think about.

But she’d never once thought of acting on any of those feelings; she was too bashful, and in all of her books the man was supposed to be the first to confess his feelings to the woman before sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to the nearest bedroom/wall/flat surface. It was clear to her now that he might feel the same way towards her, but he was never going to admit it, either.

Oh, he was moving. She pushed her thoughts back and watched him place the greaves—shining like new—on the dummy before pushing it into place and nodding at his handiwork in satisfaction. Then he turned and stretched up, giving her more than an eyeful. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry as she stared openly at his broad chest and the well-defined abs, heart loud enough now that it was a wonder he didn’t hear it. He cracked his neck and then leaned to pop his back, and her face burned as she found that she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. It was shameful, worse than any peeping tom she’d ever thrown in the dungeon, but there it was.

The bell tower sounded the hour—two o’clock—and they both listened. He hummed something under his breath and looked fondly towards Constantine curled up on a tiny pillow reserved especially for him next to the window. She could see he’d taken the girly objects off the pup, but he still looked fluffy and adorable with his tail covering his nose. She looked back and her hand clapped over her mouth to muffle her sharp inhale as he began to remove his pants. She knew, she _knew_ that this wasn’t what she needed to see, and she should go now before he took off everything and then she couldn’t go back to the not-knowing. But the other part of her mind wanted to see, and was immensely curious.

 _See then, but see when he knows that you’re there! Not when you’re hiding like a shameless voyeur and watching from the shadows!_ Her knees knocked and her hands trembled; she was thankful for the doorframe still pressed against her cheek as he peeled his pants off and folded them semi-neatly before tossing them onto a pile of other semi-neat clothing stacked on top of a wooden chest that matched Espella’s perfectly. _So that’s what he hides beneath all that armor_ , her traitorous mind crowed with glee.

 _Mew?_ The trill sounded loud in the still of the hall and she looked down in alarm, heart leaping down to her stomach and back up as she started. Eve-the-cat peered back at her with large glowing eyes, blinking twice before beginning to rub her bare legs and wind herself around them with a deep, affectionate purr.

“Shoo, Eve. Go back to Espella’s room, “ she whispered, her voice barely audible even to herself. She made a quick motion to the cat that wouldn’t be detected from within the room. The cat ignored her, as cats often do, and instead climbed up her leg in a stretch and then began kneading her thigh through the nightgown as it meowed again, staring at her with sleepy eyes as if to say “why are you out of bed?”. Then, horror of horrors, it looked with interest at the door, and then at the crack. “No, Eve, go away!” she whispered as loud as she dared, waving her hand, but the cat seemed to not hear. It put its paws on the door and fell against it, pushing it open and running through when the crack had widened to feline-size.

 _I’m going to be found out_ , her brain announced as she desperately tried to figure out what to do. She had a split-second before he turned to see what had opened the door; it had made a very audible creak as Eve had pushed it. She realized quickly that she’d have to cut her losses at once, moving forward into the room as if she’d been the one to open the door.

“Zacharias, are you still awake?” she asked, like she didn’t already know. He turned on his heel, gasping sharply before freezing and staring at her. She looked at him as though she hadn’t had her eyes on him for the past half-hour, feeling a relief at being able to look him over fully without the door being in the way as well as without the feeling of guilt weighing on her chest. The tight undergarments, outlining what she dared not glance at for more than a quick second, the shapely legs; his entire body was built around a knight’s daily exercise, but being in the bakery had softened the edges the smallest bit. It was clear he maintained a strictly disciplined schedule to counterbalance the extra food he was eating.

“Excuse me,” she whispered shakily after a moment, but was unable to avert her eyes even as he gaped at her. She stepped in and shut the door firmly behind her, in case Espella had woken up in the turmoil. The young girl didn’t need to be corrupted by such a sight. “I had no idea that you were indecent.” _Liar, liar!_ her mind protested.

“ _M-M-Miss Eve_!” Coming to life, he made a desperate lunge for his pants, then seemed to rethink it halfway and turned to jump into the bed. Or tried to, anyway; his feet were clearly not made to turn on a dime, catching on a stray board or a piece of dough, she wasn’t sure. He wobbled, trying to right himself and overcompensating. She knew what was going to happen before it did, and ran forward to try and grab him before he fell over and woke the house. Her hands closed around warm skin, but the dead weight was too much and she stumbled as well, both of them tumbling to the floor in an almighty crash.

Neither of them moved. She was straining to hear anything from outside—Patty stirring, a break in Espella’s snoring; there was nothing. _How in the world?!_ _Could those two sleep through a burglary?_ She thought, but was secretly happy for it. In this case, it had saved them both a very awkward explanation. Then she felt him shift beneath her arm and her heart forgot about speeding up, deciding to skip a beat instead.

“Miss Eve,” he repeated weakly, looking frightened into submission; it was an expression she’d never seen on him before, even when throwing him into the dungeons for treason. “You—what are—” She raised a hand to her lips as she climbed off of him, trying to ignore the loss of warmth.

“Keep your voice down. Just because they slept through that doesn’t mean that they’ll stay asleep if you keep shouting.” She kneeled beside him as he managed to raise himself into a sitting position, still looking at her as though she would punch him at the first given opportunity. He cleared his throat, knees inching up to hide his waist from her view.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone this late,” he said warily. She sat quietly, watching his face slide back into a more Barnham-like expression as the minutes passed and the shock wore off. “I—er, why were you seeking me out this late?” She quailed internally, but knew that she had to go ahead with her plan. Otherwise, she’d have to make up an excuse on the fly: something she didn’t excel at.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but haven’t found the right time or place to do so,” she explained, looking straight at him as though they were standing in their office, and not sitting on his bedroom floor in the middle of the night, one nearly naked, one in a nightgown. “I saw your light on and knew that if I could get you alone here, we could talk without anyone else interfering.” Her determined tone seemed to reassure him, and though he kept his knees pulled up against his chest, his face relaxed into a less panicked look.

“Of course. You may ask me anything,” he replied. She nodded, settling her weight on her heels so that her legs wouldn’t go to sleep as she knelt.

“Why have you been avoiding me lately?” His eyebrows arched up in surprise and then his mouth twisted as he tried to sort through her meaning.

“I—am confused,” he admitted after some time. “I don’t understand what you mean by ‘avoiding you’. I see you every day at work, and you come often enough to see Espella.” He began to stretch out one leg and thought better of it, to her chagrin.

“You can move your legs,” she muttered crossly. “I’ve seen naked men before.” That was true; how many drunken idiots had she thrown into the dungeon to ‘sleep it off’ while wearing nothing but the skin they were born in? Of course, none of those men were _him_ , but she trusted herself enough to close her eyes if she couldn’t keep them off his physique. At her words, color spread across his cheeks and down his front, nearly all the way to his chest. She held back her laughter, but a grin managed to slip out anyway before she returned to her solemn explanation.

“What I _mean_ is that you’re around me, but at the same time you’re not.” He made a baffled sound and she continued. “You only talk about work to me now. Every time I come here for supper, you don’t look at me or say a word to me, but I can feel you staring at me,” she pointed out, pretending like she’d noticed it before tonight. “You’ve been this way ever since my birthday. Don’t think that I haven’t been paying attention.”

“Ah, er—” He scratched his head, thinking hard. She leaned forward, hair spilling over her shoulders as she came face-to-face with him.

“ _Why_ , Zacharias? Why have you been avoiding me? What did I do?”

“Nothing!” he denied, looking panicked again as her face came closer. “Tis not you; nothing that you’ve _done_ , anyway,” he amended, looking away from her.

“Then what is it?” He shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. “What?” He didn’t reply again, and she pulled out her ‘superior’ tone. “I demand an answer, Sir Barnham,” she said strictly, the same way she still bossed around the lower Knights. His eyes widened at the order and his mouth worked noiselessly as he tried to obey her. They were nose-to-nose now; she was bound and determined to get an answer, even if she had to sit like this all night. She’d been on some tough interrogations before, but this was getting a little ridiculous. All he had to do was say something! Anything would have been a good enough answer instead of this uncomfortable silence!

There was a sound from the corner and she whipped her head quickly to see Eve had managed to curl herself up onto the little pillow next to Constantine, and was currently kneading a good sleeping spot on his back. He made a sleepy woof and burrowed lower into the bedding, allowing the cat to do as she pleased. It was a cute sight, and Eve smiled until she felt something hit her cheek lightly. There was a muffled curse near her ear and she pulled back, wiping the damp spot on her cheek in astonishment.

“Zacharias,” she began slowly, hardly able to believe the conclusion her mind had jumped to, even though there really wasn’t any other explanation. “Did you just _kiss me_?” He coughed and stared steadily at his knees, refusing (or unable) to look up at her.

“N—well, yes I, er… I tried to. But you moved your head too quickly for me to—” He fell back into silence, his brow furrowing the way it used to when things didn’t go the way he planned in Court.

“What kind of man kisses a woman unawares?” she teased, shocked to find that she wasn’t nearly as self-conscious as she thought she’d be. The question threw him off and she took the opportunity to lean in again. “After all, if you’d only said something, I might have stayed still.”

“W-what?!” She chuckled softly at his incredulity; somehow, she’d always figured it being the other way around, with her stuttering and blushing while he was the calm one. Then again, she _had_ caught him off guard in his underwear; under difference circumstances, he would have probably been more prepared for anything she had to say. She knew that he felt safest in his armor, just like she felt better being dressed as the Great Witch or the High Inquisitor. If they’d both been properly attired, then maybe they could have had a more engaging conversation. Still, the way things were playing out wasn’t _entirely_ bad. She was certainly enjoying herself, if nothing else.

“Well, Zacharias?” She could hardly believe she was about to say such a bold thing. “Are you too afraid to move, or would you like to try again?” He was stone; she was sure he hadn’t moved in the past few minutes. She sat and watched him, but when he _still_ didn’t move she nodded to herself. “I see. Then I bid you goodnight,” she murmured, leaning away from him.

“Wait!” He grabbed her wrist, stopping her from standing. He swallowed, a challenging expression flashing in his eyes. “I am Zacharias Barnham, ex-Inquisitor and part-time baker, and I… am _not_ afraid of you,” he announced. _So dramatic_ , she thought wryly; before she could reply he’d tugged her forward, upsetting her center of balance. He caught her, but her foot slipped on the wood and their foreheads collided with a _thunk._ He fell back with a yelp of pain, and she found herself sprawled on top of him, one hand rubbing her aching skull. _Fool!_

“Ow…” he groaned, before remembering that he wasn’t the only one who’d just gotten a bump to the head. “Miss Eve! I do apologize!” he said quickly, raising his head off the ground to look at her. She glowered at him and he winced, letting it fall back against the wood as he stared at the ceiling. “That did _not_ go as I had planned it to.”

“If you want to kiss me, just do it like a normal human being,” she grumbled. _No wonder he says that romance has no place on the battlefield… he’s **terrible** at it, _ she ranted in her mind as she continued to feel her forehead. If he had hit her hard enough to leave a knot, she would lock him in the dungeon and make sure he ate nothing but bread and water until it fully healed. He raised himself onto one elbow, brushing her hand away and studying her forehead in the candlelight with a concerned expression. She grimaced as his fingers gently prodded and then he pressed his lips against the spot. _Or maybe he’s not_ , she amended as she blushed.

“I didn’t meant to ignore you,” he said quietly, lips still pressed against her forehead before moving away to look her in the eyes. “‘Twas not my intentions at all. I’ve just been thinking about some things lately.”

“What things?” He leaned back in and kissed her cheek before moving to her lips, his touch gentle as his hand came up to hold her chin. He repeated the action with a muffled grunt before running his tongue along her lower lip. She returned the kiss eagerly, heat pouring into every limb in her body as she pressed herself closer to him. Her hand rose to smooth his hair behind his ear, feeling him shiver when she traced her fingers down the side of his neck. He broke away, eyes closed as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

“Um,” she hesitated, licking her lips and still tasting him there, “Espella pushed me out of the bed earlier. That’s how I woke up in the first place,” she whispered, ignoring the small jolt of pain that lingered as she rested her forehead against his. “Would it inconvenience you if I stayed in here for the rest of the night?” His eyes opened and he looked into hers; she could see the battle warring behind his gray irises as he looked from her to the door and back, swallowing and exhaling slowly.

“Miss Eve?” The way he was eyeing her made her all too aware of how forward she sounded, and a hot wash of shame took the place of the feelings his soft kisses had created.

“Zacharias,” she answered, feeling the shyness come over her all at once. “I-I’ve…for a while now, even before my birthday, I’ve felt—wanted—” She was unable to finish and cringed. _Now you’ve gone and done it. You just couldn’t be satisfied with one kiss, could you?_ She felt his hands fist in the back of her gown and opened one eye to see his face contorted in something akin to relief.

“I have too,” he said quickly, before she could get to her feet and run away from the humiliating situation. “’Tis why baking you an éclair was so important; I wanted to eventually engage you in— _discourse_ —beyond that of mere friendship, but I’ve been struggling since that day to find words that would adequately explain my situation.” He took a breath and then continued. “I think about you all day. I want to stay at work overtime just to see you. Every time you come to eat, I must restrain myself from blurting out something embarrassing.”

“I-I see.” She felt the turmoil in her mind abate slightly. _He feels the same way that I do. That’s the real reason he’s been so distant lately._

“Do stay,” he urged, hope in his eyes. “But if _you’d_ rather not—we don’t have to do anything.” He puffed out his chest. “I am perfectly capable of sleeping in the same bed as a lady on friendly terms. I am a baker of knightly honor, after all.” She couldn’t hold back a chuckle and he wilted.

“If I wanted to sleep, I’d be asleep.” She allowed him to stand and pull her to her feet, the boards creaking as he walked over to make sure that the door was properly shut. He turned back and looked at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice filled with a confidence she didn’t really feel. “But be quiet. The last thing we need is—”

“I know.” His voice dropped obediently and he moved past her to grab the candle from the end table. It was burning low, dripping wax on the floor as he hastily swung back around. “Would—would you do something for me?” he asked timidly, looking down at the wax drying on the wood. “Something I’ve been thinking about.”

“What is it?” He didn’t answer right away, blowing out the candle and throwing the room into semi-darkness. As her eyes adjusted, the moon came out from behind a cloud and threw the room into a pale light, shadows dancing as more clouds moved by in the breeze. He was more shadow than not now, and when he sat on the side of the bed, the only features she could see in detail were from his knees down.

“Take off your gown.” She could barely distinguish the syllables, he spoke so low. “There. In the moonlight.” She bit back a squeak of alarm and looked down at the nightgown, glowing ethereally in the light from the window. Take it off here? But she wasn’t wearing any brassiere beneath! He’d be able to see every part of her that wasn’t covered by her underwear. She hesitated, knowing that if they were to go through with this properly he’d have felt everything anyway, but the bed was dark and she could…could what? Hide?

“Please?” he pleaded, the edge to his voice undoing the last of her resolve. Her hands trembled as she pulled her arms through the long sleeves, biting her lip as she closed her eyes and pulled it over her head quickly. She held the gown up to her body, the night air chilling her naked skin and causing gooseflesh. “ _Eve_ ,” he groaned in frustration, and she looked up from the floor, trying in vain to see his face in the dark shadows of the room. He hadn’t even tacked the polite ‘miss’ onto it this time.

“Psh. _Fine_.” She took a deep breath and dropped the nightgown, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away. The clouds didn’t cooperate, the moon’s full light shining on her pale body. She had no doubt that he could see everything. His breathing hitched and she didn’t have to have Espella this time to know that he was staring hard.

“Come here.” The husky order caused a fresh chill to sweep through her and she stepped forward, grateful to be out of the revealing moonlight. He grabbed her hips and made her stand before him; she thought he would force her arms away from her chest, but he didn’t. Instead, his hands moved to her shoulders, fingers barely touching as they skated down her arms.

She shivered at the contact, unable to move while he did the same thing, this time from her knees to her thighs. Her hands forgot that they were supposed to be covering her chest; instead they found his shoulders in the dark and gripped them tightly while his wandering fingers moved to the backs of her legs and up over her back, feeling her spine before traveling back around to her waist. He leaned in, breath wafting over her stomach before kissing the skin just above her navel.

“ _Zacharias_!” she jerked back, surprised at the contact. His hands tightened on her hips, preventing her from moving back farther than an inch or two. She felt him smile against her skin and scowled at his apparent amusement. He kissed her again, mouth moving past her ribs and then between her breasts as he moved up—no, as she moved down; he was tugging her on top of him, rolling her body so that she lay against the soft, cool sheets of the bed while he loomed over her.

He settled between her legs, lips finding her throat and biting gently where it connected to her shoulder. She arched up with a gasp; her nails were digging into his shoulder blades, but he didn’t seem to care. His hands smoothed over her face, locating her features in the dark; he pulled himself up and brushed his lips against hers just as teasingly as his fingers had walked across her body, not really kissing her but close enough that she felt the tingling contact.

“Have you—?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask the entire question, but he seemed to understand.

“No,” he answered, kissing the side of her mouth before quickly pulling back as she turned her head. “At least, not in Labyrinthia. Have you?”

“Never.” She swallowed a bitter emotion rising in her throat. As the leader of the Inquisition, who would have wanted to sleep with her? She called their wives and daughters witches.

“Good.” She huffed and he chuckled under his breath. “Should there have been another, I’d have had to take up my sword against him.”

“That’s a little _too_ spirited, isn’t it?” she pointed out breathlessly before her brain quit functioning as one of his hands traced a line down her stomach to the waistband of her underwear. He laughed again and she felt him shrug.

“I don’t want anyone else trying to lay claim to you.” His mouth met hers properly this time, tongue sliding past her lips. Her hands moved from his shoulders to wind her fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands; they were thicker than she’d imagined they’d be. He moaned approvingly at her actions, tongue rubbing against hers as his hands continued to caress from her face down to her chest. “Eve, beautiful Eve… I’ve dreamt about doing this,” he confessed as his hands closed on her breasts. “But never in this setting, I must admit.”

“Then w- _where_?” She bit her knuckle to muffle the sharp cry she couldn’t help but release as he moved down to trace her collarbone with his tongue. If she thought it would be bad for someone to wake up before; to be found out now would be utterly mortifying.

“Mm? Well, if you must know,” He moved away and pushed her back onto the bed when she made to sit up. “Some are on your desk, beneath that painting.” The bed creaked as he moved and then he was pulling at her underwear. She lifted her hips to help him, straining to hear his nearly-silent voice. “I’ve had one where we were in the dungeons.” He tossed her underwear to land on top of her nightgown. “In that room where we fought, in your house, in that chair… that was an interesting one.”

“You’ve been thinking about this a lot.” She made a little sound of confusion when he found her hands and pulled them above her head, holding her wrists. His other hand angled her hips and she realized with a start that they were both entirely naked now. _He really doesn’t waste any time, does he?_

“Yes, well… I always thought we’d have more time, but Mrs. Eclaire will be up sooner than later, and I’d rather not let her find out what I’m doing under her roof,” he replied sheepishly. He began to grind against her with slow, even movements; her toes curled as she lifted her hips to prolong the contact, afraid to even open her mouth lest her soft moans turn into something much louder. “I’ll be sure to take my time the next time we do this.” He paused, his breathing becoming heavier to match hers. “T-there will be a next time—?” His confidence seemed to waver. She nodded, even though she knew he could probably barely see her outline in the shadow.

“Yes… there will be a next time.” She didn’t need light to know that there was a big, goofy grin on his face. “Next time you can take off your nightgown for me.” This earned her a laugh that he barely managed to cover up and he pushed his hips almost punishingly against hers, the action sending a fine tremor through her body.

“Are you ready?” She wiggled one of her arms free and yanked him down to her level, managing to do a better job that he did earlier and saving them both another headache. She kissed him hard, reveling in the way his chest felt against hers, the warmth of his body surrounding her and blocking out the cool night air.

“Yes,” she breathed, wrapping one leg around his back to hold him close. “Do it.” She felt him at her entrance and tried to relax, taking a deep, steadying breath. He pushed into her slowly, burying his face in her shoulder as he groaned under his breath. She grit her teeth as she was stretched and filled, trying to keep from drawing blood with her nails as she clasped him to her.

“Are you alright?” He sounded as though higher functions like speaking were almost beyond him. She eased up with her nails, continuing to take deep breaths until the burning sting wore down into something more manageable.

“Yes. I’m fine.” She moved her hips just a little to prove it; he clutched her arm, hissing something unintelligible before thrusting into her again. With each movement the pain lessened and soon she was panting along with him as they figured out how to get their motions in sync. He was shushing her and she realized that she was nearly whimpering his name.

“ _Hush_ , Eve!” he was whispering in her ear desperately, kissing her jaw. “I’m here; you’re going to wake someone. _Shh_.”

“I can’t help it!” she snapped, body tensed as though she were physically trying to hold back her voice. He didn’t reply, his mouth falling on hers savagely, swallowing her cries as he began to move faster. “I can’t—I—” It was too hard to breathe now, much less talk, so she focused on keeping as silent as possible. She covered her mouth with one hand as a sort of physical reminder, leaning up into him as she bit her lip hard enough to cause pain.

“At least say that you’re close,” he begged after he adjusted them both for the third time, hands running across her body roughly. His breathing was no better than a snarl now, more fierce and animalistic than anything she’d heard from him before. She didn’t answer, running her nails lightly down his chest as she tried to distract herself from the sensations building up inside. He stiffened and cursed; she felt his entire body tremble violently for a brief moment. _So the mutt’s not the only one that likes to be scratched_ … _interesting. Let’s save that information for next time._

Then he took it a step too far, his fingers moving past her stomach and slipping between her folds. He rubbed her three times and she was finished, heart hammering, limbs melting, mind completely shutting down as she arched against him, digging her teeth into her lower lip until she tasted blood. Then all the energy left her and she was back against the pillows, her sensitized body protesting as he continued to thrust. She managed to gather enough stamina to reach up and run her nails down his chest again, fingers dancing around his navel; he collapsed on top of her, teeth grinding as uncontrollable moans and hisses escaped.

There was a silence afterwards that made her wonder if they were really being quiet at all. He pulled out of her and rolled away, his breath slowly evening to normal. She listened to it for a moment before rolling over and resting her head against his chest. His heart was beating like mad, but that too slowed with time. He wound an arm under her waist, holding her still. As the lethargy set in, he spoke.

“Eve— _oof_.” She had no spare energy to raise her head, but her eyes turned up in his direction (or at least where he should have been in the dark).

“What?” His grip on her waist tightened.

“Not you. The cat.” Then she was startled by a loud purring close to her ear. “She crawled up my stomach.” A wet nose touched hers and then retreated just as quickly. “I guess she must think I’m warmer than Constantine.”

“I’ll second that.” With the rhythmic purring, her ear against his warm chest, and his arm holding her close, she closed her eyes and smile. This moment, as hurried as it had been, was… nice.

* * *

She was again wakened rudely, her eyes blearily with lack of sleep as she stared up at the man who’d clapped his hand against her mouth. His finger rested against his lips as he looked at her in a panic. Then he rose onto his knees and turned towards the door.

“I heard something or someone earlier on the landing. Maybe she went outside.” There was a frustrated huff on the other side of the door that she recognized as Espella’s.

“Well she didn’t return home; her clothes are still in my room. Maybe she _did_ go outside. I hope she didn’t go far….” There were hurried footsteps as she took off and then a rapid staccato as she descended to the main level. He stared at the door until sure that the young woman was gone before taking his hand away from her mouth.

“You best hurry and get ready for breakfast. I let us fall asleep,” he grinned apologetically. “I’m glad Espella doesn’t just barge in like you,” he teased. “Otherwise….”

“I got it,” she replied, untangling herself form the blanket and hurrying to put on her underwear and nightgown. She felt gross from the dried sweat from the night before, her thighs sticky and making her want to shower; but she had no time for that right now. She pulled her arms through the sleeves and turned to see him staring at her, eyes darkened with emotion. He caught her gaze and smiled again, nodding to the door.

“Go ahead. I’ll be down in a little while.” She nodded, opening the door to make sure the landing was clear before sneaking back to Espella’s room. She was halfway dressed when the door burst open and Espella ran in.

“Eve!” the girl shouted, throwing her hands around her waist and squeezing the life out of her. “Where on earth did you go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“I—ah— _you_ woke me up by pushing me out of the bed,” she accused. “It was already pretty close to morning, so I took a walk to clear my head. I didn’t’ mean to worry you; I meant to be back before you woke.” The last part wasn’t a lie; she had meant to be back in the room and safe beyond suspicion, but she’d fallen asleep.

“Oh, Eve.” The girl’s mouth turned down in a pout. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She put a hand around Espella’s shoulders and then pushed her away gently.

“I know you didn’t. You just better make sure you get that under control before you decide to seduce whoever you’re trying to flirt with. If you knock _him_ out of the bed, then there’s no telling what will happen!” she laughed.

When the two went down to breakfast, Barnham was already there in his chair. He glanced at them briefly before smiling and digging into his plate of food again without a word. Aunt Patty sat them down and filled up their plates with eggs, ham, toast, and all sorts of decadent buttered pastries.

“I was just telling Zacharias that I heard a very loud crash last night. I thought it was burglars in the house, but he assured me it was just him being clumsy. That’s how he got that little bruise,” she pointed out. Eve looked up in alarm; sure enough, there was a clear imprint of a bruise on his forehead, barely noticeable due to his tanned skin but still there. The Danish she was eating stuck to the back of her throat and she had trouble swallowing.

“Ooh, be careful, Sir Barnham!” Espella admonished as she cut up her scrambled eggs further with her fork. “You’ll break your head open like a melon one of these days!” The knight shrugged one shoulder and then tried to fit an entire slice of ham into his mouth at once, following it by a roll. Eve heard a clank of metal and then a foot pressed against hers briefly, just long enough to get her attention before falling away. She smiled down at her toast before taking a bite.

“Yes…” Patty agreed as she refiled the water in Eve’s glass. She felt a mittened hand on her cheek and then she was looking up, facing the woman’s round face as her eyes searched for something. “Tell me Eve, _you_ look a little banged up. Did you fall last night too?” Her heart stopped. She couldn’t breathe as she stared into the baker’s eyes, feeling the knowing gaze scorch her very soul. Mrs. Eclaire hummed and then let go of her cheek, letting her face fall as she took the water jug back to the counter.

“You know, if any of you were to… _fall_ in this house again, I suggest that you’d try to do it a bit more quietly, so you don’t wake up old women who need their beauty sleep.” The rolling pin banged ominously on the counter before she was off rolling out dough and humming with a little smile on her face, all traces of serious discussion removed from her countenance. Espella stared at her guardian for a moment before swallowing the food in her mouth. Eve looked over to see the ginger knight as red as his hair, staring at the plate without touching another morsel.

“Eve, how can you control how loudly you fall?” Espella asked loudly, reaching across the table to grab another piece of toast. Eve suddenly wanted to do nothing but bury her head in her arms and pray that witchcraft was real; then she could use Dimere and just vanish off the face of the earth forever instead of having to face her utter humiliation.

“I don’t know, Espella. Just eat your breakfast.”

**Author's Note:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Kek.


End file.
